


When We Were Younger

by C4ar1i3_B0n358212



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Childhood Friends, Internalized Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, No beta sorry, See notes at beginning of ch 2 for more on that, Self-Harm, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-30
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:07:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28423716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C4ar1i3_B0n358212/pseuds/C4ar1i3_B0n358212
Summary: They are going into Middle School now and Link has made a decision that Rhett is not sure he agrees with.
Relationships: Rhett McLaughlin & Link Neal, Rhett McLaughlin/Link Neal
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I have written fanfiction in a Long Time so please forgive me. This is really just a small fragment of a story that has been playing around in my head for a bit so I might fold this into a larger work if it well....works. I hope you enjoy!!

“We have to stop.”

Link’s voice broke the silence of the golden afternoon. They were lying next to the river in the shade of the trees, staring up in companionable silence through the branches towering above them. The sunlight had taken on that heavy quality that seems specifically unique to the hours between 4-6 PM in the late summer, and the sunbeam that slowly marked the time over Rhett’s arms almost had weight. 

“Stop what brother?” Link was always overthinking things. Rhett wasn’t worried. He’d talk him down, just like every other time before. But Link did not answer his question, and the renewed silence felt thicker than before, less right. Rhett turned his head to stare at his best friend stretched out on his back next to him. Link was staring upward, but his brow was furrowed, and his cheeks were flush, and he was gnawing on one of his thumbnails. A nervous but determined energy radiated off him. Hmm. Something had his goat. Rhett shifted slightly so that he was laying more on his side than on his back. Link’s eyes darted in his direction at the sound, and then flicked back up to the sky. Rhett saw his chest rise and fall, saw his mouth open like he was going to say something, and then close again. 

“Stop what?” Rhett asked again quietly, trying not to startle him. Link took another deep breath and pushed himself into a sitting position. He scooted around to face Rhett, who also sat up and crossed his legs. Rhett gave his best friend a hard look, which Link avoided by looking down at the ground, his nervous hands absent mindedly picking up and shredding old leaves. Then in a voice that failed miserably at nonchalance, Link said “You know…the like, hugging…” A pause. And then, in a slightly softer voice, “…the kissing.”

Now it was Rhett’s turn to furrow his brow. “Whaddya, mean man? We are best friends, why shouldn’t we hug each other? And the kissing thing was just for practice! We don’t want to be bad kissers when we get girlfriends right? Plus no one knows about that but us.” Rhett felt a slight twinge in his stomach that he chalked up to being hungry. Rhett was always hungry after all.

“Yeah, I know, I know.” Link sighed and wrapped his arms around his knobby knees, hugging them into his chest. “I just think, well we are going to middle school next year, and that means we are growing up. And grown-ups don’t hug and kiss each other. Not boy grown-ups anyways.”

Rhett stared intently at Link, trying to ignore the squirmy feeling in his guts. He knew he should have packed another sandwich. When was the last time he ate anyway? Too long. “Look Link” he started in a placating voice “I think you’re making a big deal outta…”

“I just don’t want to anymore ok?!?!” Link’s yell broke through Rhett’s placating words and reverberated around the woods. Above, a squirrel chittered angrily about broken the peace of the afternoon. Link glared fiercely across the air between them, and continued on, a little quieter but no less vehemently. “I’m not a baby anymore, I’m almost a middle schooler and middle school boys don’t practice kissing with their best friends. So just grow up whydoncha and stop being such a baby about it! I have!” 

Rhett stared back at Link a little shocked. He couldn’t remember any time Link had directed this kind of anger at him. Sure, they teased or bickered sometimes, but this felt different. He blinked and wavered, wanting to defend himself but not sure from what, then he puffed up his chest a bit from his sitting position and glared back. “Don’t call me a baby man! I’m bigger and more mature than you!” Silence fell again, as the two boys stared across at each other. The calls of the birds in the trees and the murmur of the river seemed too loud, almost fake, like a movie sound affect. 

Then Link dropped his gaze. “Mmm’not calling you a baby. Just don’t act like one ok?” Then, before this new comment could be objected to, he clambered to his feet. “Gotta get back home now huh? It’s getting late,” he said to the air above Rhett’s head, before turning and walking away.

Rhett also stood up and jogged a little bit to catch up with his friend’s retreating back. Neither of them said a word as they trudged through the dimming afternoon, and whenever Rhett snuck looks at him, Link’s gaze was glued to ground, his jaw set and determined. When they parted ways to ride their bikes off in separate directions, Link grunted goodbye without making eye contact and took off like a hell hound was behind him. 

Rhett also pedaled home, but slower, barely paying attention to the well-worn route under his wheels. His mind was replaying the conversation over and over again, each repeat bringing a wave of confusion, and something else. A new feeling that Rhett had not really experienced before. He struggled to put a finger on it, his fingers clenched around the handlebars of his bike like it might try to buck him off. Shame flooded him as his eyes pricked and burned. He blinked furiously into the muggy air rushing past his face and tried to ignore the fact that whatever this new thing was, it felt unsettlingly like a goodbye.


	2. Eye of the Hurricane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Link confronted Rhett, he left. But now he's at home, and alone, and he just wishes he could think straight...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, so I kinda thought I was going to skip farther into the future with this, but then I realized I wanted to get Link's perspective on all of this so here it is. This chapter is a little heavier than the first one though so some trigger warnings:
> 
> TW: Self-harm. No bl*od or c*tting or anything, but the last couple paragraphs do have some deliberate self-punching so read with caution.
> 
> TW: Internalized homophobia, although he doesn't have the words to call it that yet.
> 
> That being said, I hope y'all like it!  
> \- Charlie

When Link got home that night he was flushed and out of breath. He stood in the carport in the deepening twilight and attempted to sort through the jumble in his mind. He felt dizzy, like his thoughts were whipping by in a crazed kaleidoscope and each time he attempted to grab onto a whole one, it wriggled out of his grasp to be replaced by another one even more confusing than the last. Finally, he gave up and just stared at the wall of his house, trying not to think anything at all. It worked, kinda, but now he could pay attention to the fact that his eyes hurt, and his head hurt, and his stomach – 

“Lincoln?” The door to the carport had opened and his mom and poked her head out.   
“You ok out here?”

Link looked up at his mom and smiled in what he hoped was a winning way. It took a lot of effort and he suddenly wished desperately that he could just go to bed. “Yeah Mom! I’m fine!”

“Well hurry up now hun, dinner’s ready. Make sure to wash up and take your shoes off when you come in.” She disappeared into the house again, and Link sighed out a breath. He lingered in the carport for a few more seconds, then gathered himself with a small shake and ran up the steps into the house. 

Dinner was a mostly quiet affair, with Link’s mom asking him questions about his day and Link answering with short sentences. He picked at his food, moving it around on his plate so that it might look like he ate more than he did. He felt distracted and confused. When he asked to be dismissed from dinner, his mom looked at him searchingly. 

“You feeling alright hun? You seem a little quiet tonight.”

Link tried to summon some energy to his voice. “I’m fine Mom!” he said, failing to hide the hint of exasperation seeping in at the edges. “Just tired. I just wanna go up to my room now. I…rode my bike really hard today.” There. That was a plausible excuse. He felt momentarily proud of himself, and then confused again, because lying was supposed to be a sin. But he couldn’t tell the truth right now because, well, because he didn’t really know what the truth was.

“Well all right then love. Just don’t forget to brush your teeth before you fall asleep. I love you.”

With his mom’s blessing, Link slipped away from the table, his only desire to be alone. When he got to his room, he flicked on his lights and shut his door. Then he turned around and just stood there, staring at his empty room. He didn’t know what to do. He almost kind of wished it wasn’t summer so that he would have homework to work on. Anything to distract him. He felt awful. He kept seeing Rhett’s confusion, his hurt, play over and over again in his mind, and each time he also saw himself turning away, walking away. Racing away. Guilt rose in him like bile and he swallowed a couple of times, eyes racing around the room. He spied his towel and snatched it up. Maybe a shower would help.

Across the hall, he cranked the shower on hot and let it run until the bathroom began to steam up. Then he stepped under the water and began his normal process: First wet, then shampoo, then wet, then conditioner, then body, then wet, then…

then…

Link realized he had been standing blankly under the water for a long time, long enough for the water to get that tinge of cold to it that meant it was about to be all cold and he better get out now. He shut the water off. He felt strange; empty but also too full. His brain was still buzzing like a nest of angry hornets. He watched from what seemed like a long way away as he grabbed his toothbrush and methodically brushed his teeth, staring into the mirror as he worked. He could see the vague outline of his head, and for some reason it was pissing him off. This shadowy mirror Link was judging him! He stared back, moving his head a bit to try and catch it in its act. 

“I had to,” He whispered to the mirror shape. “Don’t you see….??”

The mirror said nothing.

Link swiped angrily at the steamed glass and then fled the bathroom before Mirror Link could accuse him of anything else. He dressed in his pjs and walked around his room, putting things away, tidying up with an abnormal amount of fervor. Finally, when he could find nothing else to do, all his clothes in the hamper, all his toys put away, he flopped angrily facedown onto the bed. Rolling over, he stared at the ceiling. 

“I had to,” He told the stain just to the left and above his bed. 

The stain didn’t answer either. 

Link rubbed his hands roughly over his face. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to think. He knew that he had had to put a stop to…to…Link’s mind stuttered over several images in quick succession: 

Rhett dunking him under the water at the river and then hugging him with a mischievous grin when he came up chattering and cold.

Rhett wrestling him to the floor in his bedroom, draping himself over him and whispering “Im dead” in his ear.

Rhett’s hand in his as they sprinted through the cow pasture, laughing and running and laughing and falling.

Rhett’s lips nervous and dry against his.

Rhett’s lips soft against his, Rhett’s lips - 

“Stop.” Link whispered to himself, digging the palms of his hands into his eyes, blocking the light of his room, blocking everything. Blooms of deep red to appeared behind his shut eyelids. “Stop.”  
He knew he had made the right choice. Knew it had to stop. Knew, in some vague way that he didn’t actually have words for, that while other best friends could hug and maybe even kiss and it wasn’t a big deal, they were different. 

Link was different.

Link was different. And not different in the way that the cheesy posters in his teacher’s classrooms proclaimed was special. Not the “Be Yourself” kind of different.

Bad different. 

Link stared at the ceiling and blinked hard. He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He wanted to do anything, anything at all that might calm the cacophony of his mind. He felt like if he lay still, the pressure in his chest would explode violently outward. He also felt like if he moved, his cells would dissociate, and he would dissolve. He felt crazy. 

Finally, he could no longer take it. He flailed off the bed and paced angrily around his room, searching for something to anchor to, searching for a coherent thought. Blindly he reached the end of his room again and whirled around, only to accidently slam his forearm into his dresser. 

The sudden shock of pain brought him up short and he blinked as the room seemed to focus before him. For a few moments he felt like he could breathe again, like his feet were actually touching the floor once more, and not just churning through stinking quicksand. The smart of the impact was already fading, but if he focused on it he could feel a lingering warmth in the spot. And nothing else. He could feel nothing else.

Without being totally aware of what he was doing, Link raised his right hand into the air by his shoulder and formed a fist. Then he brought it down in the same spot where the last of the pain was fading away. He didn’t hit with all of his strength, but it was enough to renew the sensation. The pain was like a jolt through his body, and Link felt his panicked brain quiet as it processed this. 

He took a deep breath, and then raised his fist again and brought it down on his arm three more times in quick succession. The angry sound of skin on skin smacked dully in his ears. When he was done, his left forearm was an ugly mottled red, and there was a dull ache in his bones that somehow extended to the pit of his stomach. His head, however, was blessedly, amazingly, quiet. His whirling thoughts weren’t gone, but he had read about the eye of hurricanes in fifth grade, and that was what he felt like now. Like he was surrounded by storm clouds, but his seas had calmed.

On shaky legs, he crossed to his bed and crawled under the covers, pulling them up to his chin and burying his head in the pillow. When his mom came and checked on him thirty minutes later, he was still awake, but he squeezed his eyes shut and feigned sleep. She crossed the room, kissed his forehead, and then left, turning out the light and shutting the door behind her. Link lay there in the dark, flexing the fingers on his left hand and feeling the ache of his abused arm until finally, finally, he fell asleep.


End file.
